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“Whether or not you’re carrying my baby, I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You don’t have me, so you can’t lose me.”
“And I’m going to do my best to change that.”
“You’re crazy.”
“And you’re beautiful. I’ll go now. Call me after you take the test, either way.” I drop a business card on the coffee table. “This is my number.”
24
MARISSA
From John:
Have you taken the test?
The text message lands on my screen late on Wednesday night as I’m already in bed. Today I was supposed to take the pregnancy test and didn’t.
In the past couple of days, I pushed the notion of potentially being pregnant with John’s baby out of my head. I used my preferred coping mechanism and buried myself in work instead, both for WeTrade and The Ex Files. I’d rather think about anything other than a pregnancy test. What if it comes back positive? I’m terrified by the thought. And if it’s negative?
My hands shake around the phone.
No. I want the test to be negative. But I also want and love this baby that I don’t even know exists so much already.
Another text brings me out of my momentary state of panic.
From John:
Still waiting for an answer
To John:
How did you get my number?
From John:
Irrelevant
Did you take the test?
Contrary, invasive, insufferable man.
To John:
No!
From John:
Why not?
To John:
I didn’t have time today
The jerk has the nerve of sending me a raised eyebrow emoji followed by another text.
From John:
